Brush Turkey Shooting in Australia. 
On the broad, western plains of the State of 
Victoria the wild turkeys arrive from the north 
early in summer and spread themselves in small 
flocks of from three to twenty. The grasses 
are then all ripened; and on the seeds, as well 
as on the multitude of insects that infest the 
fields, the turkey feeds and thrives amazingly. 
Our turkey is one of the largest of the wild 
birds of Australia. I have shot any amount rang¬ 
ing from sixteen to twenty pounds dead weight, 
and occasionally I have bagged them up to 
twenty-three and twenty-four pounds. The tur¬ 
keys nest and breed away back in the open, un¬ 
settled plains of the State of New South Wales 
where there is nothing to molest them. On 
these plains they do splendidly until December, 
when the seeds go off. Then they come south 
into the more settled districts. 
Heavy and slow birds though they are, they 
are very difficult to get close enough to to shoot. 
They are very shy and watchful and their habit 
of keeping in open, flat and treeless country 
makes it very hard to stalk them successfully. 
But they have one or two curious habits that 
often end in their undoing. 
A few days ago three of us went out to hunt 
up two or three turkeys that we had heard of 
on a bit of broad, open plain. We drove in a 
light, two-seated buggy with a horse that thor¬ 
oughly understood his business. Part of the 
paddock, which was over 1,000 acres in extent, 
was covered with thick, high tussock grass, a 
coarse grass that grows in clumps and stands 
up to three feet high. Presently we sighted a 
big turkey. The turkey also sighted us, but as 
we were all in the buggy it did not get alarmed. 
Steadily we drove toward it, not directly, but 
with a circular sweep. Suddenly the turkey dis¬ 
appeared. It had squatted, in the belief that we 
had not seen it. Steadying the horse to a walk 
our driver, a thorough bushman, drove quietly 
straight to the spot where the turkey had dis¬ 
appeared. Just when we were about fifteen 
yards from it the turkey rose. At once the 
driver’s foot went on the brake and the old 
horse stopped as still as a statue. The turkey 
rose on my right and gave me an easy shot. 
He fell stone dead. 
But with the report, what was our surprise 
to see two more turkeys rise, one in front and 
one behind our trap. Luckily my two mates 
had their guns handy and both birds were 
promptly accounted for. My bird weighed 
twenty-one pounds and the others nineteen and 
eighteen pounds respectively. This was an ex¬ 
cellent day’s work, but it must be admitted that 
to bag three birds at once like this is the rare 
exception. One bird at a time is considered 
very good work. 
Two days later we had another experience. 
Two of us were driving across to a lagoon 
where we hoped to find a few ducks. On the 
way our driver spotted a turkey feeding in an 
open and exposed bit of country. But we re¬ 
solved to have a try for him. So we drove 
over as close as possible and then K. got out 
of the trap and set off to stalk him. There 
was a little hill that gave him this chance, but 
it did not look too promising. I noticed, how¬ 
ever, a long bunch of reeds across which the 
turkey would likely fly when K. put him up. So 
shoving a couple of double A cartridges into 
my pocket I crawled off to the reeds. I got 
there without the turkey, which was about half 
a mile away, seeing me. Then peering through 
the reeds I kept my eyes on him and awaited 
developments. It took K. nearly half an hour 
to get to his hill and then he found that he 
was quite out of range and the turkey was 
steadily feeding away from him. Crouching 
down, he crept rapidly forward in the hope of 
getting within range before the bird noticed 
him. But it was no good. A turkey never feeds 
long without lifting its head and taking a sharp 
look all around. This one looked up very soon 
after K. got up and spotting him instantly rose 
and flew straight toward me. K. just stood 
still and watched it dolefully as it flew away. 
It came almost directly over me as I lay 
crouched in the reed bed, and I jumped to my 
feet. It was flying low, as turkeys mostly do 
-—about forty feet in the air—and I got an easy 
shot. The big bird crumpled up and dropped 
with a heavy thud into the reeds. This was K.’s 
first intimation that I was on the job and he 
was agreeably surprised, and at the same time 
glad that the bird did not beat us altogether. 
The turkey will never let a man on foot get 
within four or five hundred yards of it. The 
birds watch your movements intently, and as 
soon as you come inconveniently close, off they 
go. They also have the cautious habit of get¬ 
ting up the moment you hide after they have 
once seen you, so that stalking is rarely of any 
use once the birds have been alarmed. They 
seem to argue, and rightly, that a man who dis¬ 
appears from their sight is dangerous. I have 
seen them get up because a man they were 
watching disappeared from their sight a mile 
away. At the same time they will allow a 
horseman to come very close to them, and a 
buggy or any other vehicle does not readily 
alarm them, though it is not often that they 
will allow it to come close enough for a shot. 
I got several turkeys one season with the aid 
of a boundary rider (a man employed on the 
big sheep and cattle stations to ride around the 
fences and see that everything is in order). 
This man was so much about the paddocks that 
the turkeys had got used to him. So I used to 
walk beside his horse, of course keeping the 
horse between me and the bird, while we grad¬ 
ually edged in close enough for a shot. Then 
I would slip from the side of the horse and 
run in on the bird. The turkey is a slow bird 
and takes a little time to get up in the air, so 
that you can execute this maneuver very often 
where they are plentiful. I got thirteen turkeys 
in this manner that season, ranging from twelve 
to twenty pounds in weight. The only trouble 
likely to befall you during the operation is to 
stumble in the rough grass. Curiously enough 
this happened to me when I was rushing the 
biggest turkey I had yet seen—a fine, big male 
of fully twenty-four pounds. I was so anxious 
to bag him that I did not notice a sort of crab 
hole, and stumbling in it I pitched forward on 
my face. My gun went off, but the turkey went 
off, too. I scrambled to my feet in the hope 
that I might get in my second barrel, but the 
turkey was right out of range. I never saw 
this tufkey again, although my friend the boun¬ 
dary rider kept a keen lookout for him. 
In country where there is very little settle¬ 
ment and where the turkeys are not much dis¬ 
turbed 1 have picked up several with the use 
of a buggy. My plan was to sit in the back of 
the buggy, and let my driver circle round 
steadily, until he got as close to the bird as 
possible. When we were so close that the bird 
was beginning to look uneasy and to show signs 
of getting up, I would slip out of the buggy and 
walk at the back, keeping out of sight of my 
quarry of course. Then the driver drove slowly 
and carefully still closer to the bird. I was 
watching all the time and as soon as the bird 
gave a sign of getting up, I ran out from the 
back of the buggy. We often drove to within 
forty or fifty yards of the bird in this manner 
and four times out of five I was able to get a 
decent shot. Using very heavy shot I was, as 
a rule, able to drop a bird at up to fifty yards, 
though between thirty and forty yards is gen¬ 
erally far enough. The turkey, being a big, 
strong bird, can carry away a lot of shot. Very 
often I have seen them fly over a mile after 
a shot at close range before they dropped. In 
open, plain well-grassed country you have to 
keep a careful watch on a bird flying off in this 
fashion, as unless you do your chance of re¬ 
covering it is very small. Sometimes when 
winged the turk«y, after it falls, will run a con¬ 
siderable distance unseen in the long grass. 
Under these circumstances your chance of find¬ 
ing it, unless you have a dog, is very small. 
Sometimes, when unable to get near a turkey 
by any other method, I have ridden away, tied 
my horse up handy, and crawled to a tree or 
stump toward which the turkey was feeding. 
Then I would wait patiently, perhaps for two 
or three hours, until the bird had come within 
range. Turkeys are great birds to walk. They 
have long, strong legs, and if food is not very 
plentiful they will cover a mile in a very short 
time. Sometimes, too, when alarmed they will 
walk instead of flying away, When walking 
away in this manner they cover about four or 
five miles an hour, and a man on foot would 
hardly overtake them. My horse was a good 
walker and I used often to find the birds out¬ 
walking him. 
One afternoon I was lying in the thick grass 
in the shade of an acacia, waiting for a pair 
of turkeys to come to me. When I laid down 
the birds were fully a mile off. The afternoon 
was hot and close and I dozed off to sleep. Sud¬ 
denly something woke me and jumping up I 
found that the two turkeys had nearly walked 
on top of me. They had got up in great excite 
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